


consequence

by bluehasnoclues



Series: harry potter oneshots [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canonical Child Abuse, Pre-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 12:20:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17264108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluehasnoclues/pseuds/bluehasnoclues
Summary: Harry should have known that words have power, especially when it comes to magic.





	consequence

Pain shot through the side of Harry’s face. His uncle stood above him, eyes furious, teeth bared, looking every bit of the animal he was.

The small boy’s hands were shaking as he stood up. “Give it back.” He wouldn't show weakness -- because he knew Vernon would take advantage of everything he could, and this time, Harry couldn't afford to give up. He  _wouldn't_ give up. 

The letter was nearly crushed in his uncle’s hand. Harry didn’t know exactly what it was -- probably a practical joke -- but it was addressed to him, and he wanted to know. Someone knew that he lived under the stairs; _someone_ knew that his bedroom was a cupboard.

Someone knew about him, and Harry needed to know who _._

His 'family' was not so easily persuaded. 

“Burn it,” his aunt hissed, “burn it like the rest of those _freaks.”_

Harry’s voice was steady as he yelled, “It’s mine!”

His uncle surged forward, hand raised.

Time stopped; then Harry blinked, and he was slumped against the wall, head bleeding sluggishly. He tried to push himself off the wall and stumbled. Vernon’s face purpled, foot poised to kick, and Harry barely rolled out of the way.

“It’s _mine,”_ Harry croaked.

“Learn your _place, freak,”_ his uncle roared. “Or you’ll be locked in your room for a _week.”_

“Nothing new,” Harry said caustically, stupidly, and wasn’t able to dodge the next blow. He doubled over, gasping. He tasted blood.

He’d bitten his tongue, Harry noted absentmindedly.

“Watch for the neighbors,” his aunt hissed. “They’ll hear.”

“Better that they know we’re disciplining him,” Vernon growled. “He’s a delinquent, isn’t he?”

Harry had never hated anyone quite so much; not when Dudley began Harry Hunting, or when his teacher brought him aside to recommend him for the _special_ classes, or when they locked him out on Christmas day in the snow in nothing but a thin shirt and worn pants.

Petunia swallowed. “But… they’ll -- _they’ll_ come here. With their _freakishness._ With their… _magic._ If the neighbors say anything.”

His aunt said the word like she’d say _communist_ or _gay;_ disgusted, sneering, but with more than a hint of fear. _Magic,_ Harry latched on desperately. It couldn’t be real -- it _couldn’t._ But it made his family scared, and he would take what he could get.

“Give it back, or -- or I’ll cast a spell on you!” Harry shouted, holding his hand out in front of him. Petunia took a visible step back, but Vernon only came closer.

“You haven’t learned anything from those freaks,” his uncle sneered, face twisting. “Shut up, or I’ll make it _two_ weeks.”

“Give it _back!”_ Harry shouted, louder and more forcefully than he’d ever spoken before. Petunia, at least, looked scared; Vernon only looked angry, and he came closer again, and fear struck Harry. Air stopped flowing to his lungs -- two weeks in his cupboard, he wouldn’t be able to make it, especially with the beating he was about to get, but maybe if he scared them, if he scared them enough that they would leave him alone --

 _“Abracadabra!”_ Harry screamed, hoping beyond hope that magic was real. It had to work -- it _had_ to, or Harry would be hurt, and he was so tired of being hurt. He forced every last bit of his hatred into his scream, furious, because _they didn’t deserve anything, they didn’t even deserve to live --_

Green light flashed through the room.

Two bodies fell to the ground.

Harry’s breath caught in his chest; he was frozen. Frozen like Petunia and Vernon’s eyes, which still stared straight at him, even as they lied there on the ground.

A sick smell permeated the room. Harry suppressed the urge to vomit.

_Did I…? Did I just --_

Harry forced himself to think. If he _did,_ he didn’t have time to panic. But now -- he had what he wanted, he thought, as he shoved Vernon’s body aside and took the letter from cooling hands.

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

It _was_ him, then.

Harry’s brain whirled. Blood dripped onto the floor; his nose was bleeding, and when he raised his hand to the back of his head, that came back red, too.

The scent of iron and death, Harry thought mildly, and almost laughed. _This is shock, I think._

But -- he had to do something. Quick. Dudley was at Piers’ house, but if people knew that Harry lived in his cupboard, what else were they watching?

Harry swallowed. His vision was spotting -- he needed to lie down before he passed out, but he didn’t have time.

Gas, Harry thought desperately. Gas -- and the oven, maybe. Suddenly, he was glad that the Dursleys forced him to cook all of their meals. He knew where the gas was -- and the matches.

Harry stumbled down the stairs, black threatening to overcome him. He couldn’t let that happen -- he held onto the wall and blinked hard.

The drawer was messy, messier than he usually kept it -- keys, rubber bands, a broken plastic fork -- Harry’s breath quickened. He needed to _hurry,_ hurry before the black overtook him, hurry before Dudley came back.

There. Matches.

This was a bad idea, Harry knew, but he also knew that he had no other ideas.

It would have to work.

 

* * *

 

When the Ministry was alerted to the use of an Unforgivable at Harry’s place of residence, Albus felt his heart stop. He wasted no time in Apparating, landing just outside the blood wards, and what he saw…

Harry was alright, Albus thought with relief, as he saw the soot-covered boy sitting on the ground with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. People milled about; the house was in flames, hurriedly being put out by the fire brigade.

It must have been a mistake, Albus reasoned. How would Harry know the Killing Curse?

 

* * *

 

 _Abracadabra,_ Harry thought, pulling the shock blanket closer around him. _With a bit of a slur and a great amount of hate._

His tormentors’ bodies slowly burned to ash.

_What great things magic can do._

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year!
> 
> (This happened after a bit too much wine and not enough inspiration for my other stories. Haven't re-read yet -- apologies in advance)


End file.
